Masks
by lexabelle
Summary: Formerly titled "Dios Mio". Dr Cal Lightman learns there is more to Abigail Andrews than meets the eye. Continuation of the "Abigail Andrews" series "The Crush", "Happy Belated Birthday" .
1. Dios Mio

**Title:** Dios Mio  
**Character/pairing:** N/A  
**Rating:** PG/T  
**Spoilers: **All of Season One (up to but not including "Sacrifice")  
**Summary:** Dr. Cal Lightman takes Abigail Andrews on her first practical assignment and learn there is more to her than meets the eye.  
**Author's Note:** Due to reader request, I am continuing the tales of Abigail Andrews ("The Crush", "Happy Belated Birthday").  
**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Lie to Me" or its characters, the show belongs to Fox and I make no money off of these stories. I appreciate comments and critique, please feel free to read and review. Enjoy!

xxxxx

It had been a long eight hours Abigail Andrews had to admit - she hadn't thought her first day as a new recruit on Doctor Cal Lightman's 'deception detection team' would be filled with so much knowledge. "This is university all over again," she sighed inwardly, looking at the pile of textbooks, photocopied papers and file folders stuffed full of who knew what. "I'm going to need more post-its and better coffee," she said aloud.

"But not tonight," Cal said, striding into her 'office' (the term 'office' was used lightly as it was more of a desk and shelves tossed into what was Cal's storage room, something they would remedy soon, Abigail had been promised).

"Not tonight? I needed to start reading all of this about three years ago," Abigail quipped before covering her mouth with her hand, letting a yawn escape.

"Your day isn't over yet. Besides, reading all of that," Cal said, motioning to the mound of books with his hand, "that is really just to set the groundwork. Most of your learning will be more practical. Like what we're about to do."

"About to do?" Abigail repeated tiredly.

Cal shook his head. "You've got to start trusting me, Abby. I think this outing will help with that. That and I could blackmail you into doing it, remember?" He said, eyebrows raised slightly.

"How long are you going to hold this over my head, exactly? Do you have a timeframe I can follow," Abigail asked. Just a few weeks ago she had been called into Cal's office, his picking up on deception from Abigail, which turned out to be nothing more than an innocent workplace crush she had on Cal. He had used this information to his advantage ever since.

"I don't believe in timelines, I live life organically. Come along!" he commanded, plucking Abigail's coat from the hook it hung on and holding it out to help her into it.

Slowly nodding, Abigail went over to Cal and allowed him to help her into her jacket. "Where are we going?" she asked, picking up her purse.

"Always asking the wrong questions," Cal chided her. "It's not _where_ we're going, Abby. It's _why_."

"Better question, _how_ are we getting there? I don't have a car," Abigail offered.

"Taxi. We're going to need it." Cal replied, leading her out of the office.

Abigail stood perplexed. "We're going to _need_ a taxi?" She asked the empty office.

"I wait for no one, Abby," Cal called from the hall, and Abigail followed the direction of her mentor's voice.

…_one cab ride later…_

Abigail stood in shock in front of the building Cal had instructed the taxi driver to bring them to. "You have got to be kidding me."

"I never kid about research, Miss Andrews."

Abigail shook her head then looked at Cal, repeating, "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

"Don't look at me with those incredulous eyes," Cal lightly chastised Abigail. "Look, it's a perfect place to start observing people in their element."

"A library would be perfect, a mall would be perfect, a _hospital waiting room_ would be perfect!"

Cocking his head to one side with eyes twinkling, Cal could not help but ask, "Remembering your birthday, Abby? Or the morning after?"

Abigail closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the heavy drinking at her birthday celebration just two nights prior, followed by the next morning when Cal had 'dropped by' her apartment and caught her in a very compromising situation while she was very hung over. She opened her eyes again, glaring at Cal. "Is that why you brought me to a bar? And one called '_Dios Mio_' at that?"

Cal extended an arm to Abigail, inviting her to link arms with him. "We can't drink much because we are actually going to be doing practical research."

Abigail hesitantly put her arm through Cal's, and he patted her hand. "All right, firecracker, let's go."

"Firecracker?" she said, trying to place where she had heard him saying that before. _"I wonder what you're like when you're sloshed. I'll bet you're a firecracker." _He said it when he was at the apartment the other morning.

"Fantastic," she groaned before allowing Cal to lead her into the bar.

…_one round later…_

"…and so, when there are pitch variations, the voice goes higher, like at the end of a sentence in which someone is asking a question rather than making a statement, there is depiction present," Cal explained, rolling his empty shot glass on the table. He had picked that bar mainly because of the lack of patrons. One could do basic observations of human nature and still hold a normal conversation.

"So pitch changes, they're lying," Abigail nodded, her shot glass still full and untouched before her.

Cal raised his index finger, wagging it slightly, "Ahhh, that's not it at all, Abby!"

"You just said pitch variations-"

"Denote _deception_," Cal poked the index finger towards Abigail, emphasizing the word 'deception'. "There is a world of difference between 'lying' and 'deception'." Cal's eyes landed on Abigail's full shot glass. "You know, in some cultures you could be killed for ignoring a drink that's been bought for you."

Taking the not-subtle-at-all hint, Abigail grabbed the shot glass and drank down the liquid.

"Then again, in other cultures, you could be sexually promised to the person who bought the shot," Cal deadpanned.

Abigail choked on the last bit of alcohol that failed to be swallowed before Cal's last statement. After a few good coughs, she laughed. "Is everything a test with you?"

"First things first. Lying, by definition, is 'a false statement made with deliberate intent to deceive; an intentional untruth'. Deception, on the other hand, is a 'concealment or distortion of the truth for the purpose of misleading'. It's not necessarily a lie we are looking for, but there is almost always deception."

"Don't you have to have a lie where there's deceit?"

"Distortion of the truth is not necessarily a lie. What if you don't know you're lying?" Cal postulated.

"How can you not know if you're lying," questioned Abigail as "La Bamba" blared throughout the bar.

"Outside force changes your circumstances but as you're not aware of it, you're telling the truth as you know it." Cal created an example to illustrate his point. "Your husband slips poison into the juice you give your rich aunt, but you don't know it's poisoned. You say as much. You're lying but you don't realize it because you don't have all the facts." Cal explained.

"OK, I think I'm with you," Abigail nodded. "Now my question; is everything a test with you?"

A bar employee came to clear away their empty shot glasses and Cal stopped the man, "Another round," he said and the employee nodded.

"You said we weren't drinking much, that we were doing practical work," Abigail said pointedly.

"That was a bit of deception on my part," Cal admitted.

"What do you mean, deception?"

"Well, _I_ am going to be doing practical work. On you."

Abigail's eyes were wide, she laughed once or twice and looked down at the table. "I guess that answers my question."

Cal leaned back in his chair, "And what answer did you get, Abby?"

"Yes. Everything _is_ a test with you. You're constantly testing your boundaries with everyone." Abigail looked at Cal intently. "I can only imagine what you would do to the person you cross the line with."

"That would be my ex-wife, Zoe. That was a line breaker for the books," Cal joked, trying to bring the situation back into his control.

Abigail was still regarding Cal with a studious look on her face. "Are you trying to analyze me, Abby?" Cal asked, leaning forward, arms crossed in front of him.

She tilted her head to one side. "I'm trying to categorize you."

"Abby, you're going to be a well trained agent someday but I don't think-"

"No, not by your methods, by mine," she interjected, eyes showing a little squint. "My background is communications theory, after all."

Leaning in even closer, Cal asked softly yet huskily, "And were do I fit in?"

The bar employee returned with their second round of shots, coming in between Cal and Abigail. She reached for her purse to pay for the second round but Cal was faster, putting the bills into the employee's hand, telling him to keep the change. Cal held his dripping shot glass in his hands but did not throw it back as he did the first time. "So, tell me. Where do I fit?" he asked Abigail again, this time more pointedly.

A smile crossed Abigail's lips. "That's just it, you don't. At least not yet." She knocked the shot back with grace, slamming the empty glass down on the table. "Which makes you even more attractive, because now you're a puzzle. A mystery." She leaned forward in her seat, "I see a lot of myself in you."

Cal laughed but his 'merriment' never reached his eyes. "Well, I'd like to think it would be more of having _myself_ in _you_, but we'll play it your way." He said, causing Abigail to blush. He'd finally caught her off guard and the game was in his court again. "I'll drink to that, my little firecracker," he announced before downing the shot, slamming his glass on the table as Abigail had done before. Deciding to turn the tables Cal said, "You're the cheapest date I've ever had, d'you know that?"

"I'm not drunk!" Abigail argued.

"But you're getting there. That's all I needed," Cal once more leaned back in his chair.

"Needed for what?" Abigail asked quizzically. Cal had her attention diverted, just as he wanted.

It was time for Cal to cement the conversation on his side of the table. "Baseline. I need to know how you are naturally, and how you are unnaturally. Your traits. For example, you are so uncomfortable in day to day life, Abby. Playing with your hands, playing with your jewelry, your hair. Makes it hard to know whether you're being deceitful or not."

Cal was lying through his teeth – he obviously knew when Abigail was bring deceitful or he wouldn't have picked up on what she was hiding from him in the beginning. He was hoping she was enough out of her element not to pick up on that right then.

"You're giving me alcohol to figure out when I'm _not_ being deceitful?"

Cal shook his head, silently happy that Abigail seemingly ignored his previous information misdirection. "I'm giving you alcohol to figure out who you might really be. Everything you've been at The Lightman Group has been an act." He folded his hands and rested his chin on top. It was time for another misdirection. "You're trying to be more than you are, and Abby," he leaned in, putting one hand on top of hers, "you don't need to be anything more than exactly who you are. You're doing a great job. I only hire the best."

Abigail looked thoroughly confused. "Did-did I miss something important back there?"

Cal eyed Abigail thoughtfully. "Maybe we should call it a night, hmm?"

…_another cab ride later…_

"So how did it go?" Doctor Gillian Foster's voice came through Cal's cell phone.

"Pretty well I think," Cal said, looking out of the window onto the streets of Washington. "I might have started working on her self confidence but we need to know what her root is. I'm leaving that in your capable hands. She'll be all right, though."

Gillian heard something in his voice, unspoken but loud and clear. "What are you leaving out?"

Cal paused for a moment.

"Cal?" Gillian prompted.

Cal exhaled loudly. "It was just the alcohol doing the talking. She was starting to make eyes at me, not that I blame her, I'm told I'm three times as attractive to women who are drunk," he said, trying to cover up the pause with humour.

It worked, and the patronizing smile could be felt through the phone. "Go home, Cal. Get some sleep."

"On it. Good night," he said before hanging up the phone.

The cab dropped Cal off in front of the buildings of The Lightman Group. After paying the driver for the ride from the bar, to Abigail's and to the office, Cal made his way to where his car was parked when he stopped suddenly. Changing his mind, he went into the building and rode the elevator to the floor his offices were located on.

The main offices were dark and quiet at that time of night, but he was hoping one person was still burning the midnight oil. Opening the door to Eli Loker's research office, he was relieved to find Eli still there.

"Boss man, what are you doing here?" Eli said, standing up and bushing the hair out of his eyes.

"How many projects you working on right now?" Cal asked, looking around the paper strewn office.

"Just tying up some loose ends on the 'Babies Exposed to Television" facial expression mimicking project. Why?" Eli asked.

"I need you do look into an employee's past. It has to be kept very quiet."

Eli nodded knowingly, then went to his file cabinet. Picking a file, he carried it over to Cal. "I think you'll find everything you need in here." Before handing him the file, Eli added, "And this 'research' that happened before you asked for it? Never happened."

"Done," Cal nodded, willing to overlook this gross misconduct for the time being. Eli placed the folder into his waiting hands. He left Eli to his paperwork and walked down to his own office, tossing his jacket over one of the visitor's chairs and settling into his chair behind the desk.

Abigail didn't know it, but she had struck a chord when she was sitting there, saying she was trying to categorize Cal. When she said she could not place him she had been lying to him. This meant she was thinking something completely different when she had been claiming to 'categorize' him, or she believed she had come to an understanding about him. He wasn't a fan of the second option.

She had said that she saw a lot of herself in him. In order to understand what Abigail claimed she saw, he would have to understand her better. She was now a mystery to him, too.

Pulling out his glasses he began to read every shred of information Eli had gathered on one Abigail Elizabeth Andrews.

It would turn out that Cal didn't know nearly as much about Abigail as he had once thought.

"_My God._"


	2. Me and My Shadow

**Chapter Two: Me and My Shadow**

Abigail was exhausted, images of the last twelve hours floating before her tired eyes. She lay in the darkened bedroom on her bed, still in the clothes she had been wearing all day. Her roommate was not at home, out late yet again doing who knew what. Abigail had not eaten anything since returning home and the tequila was still offering her a pleasant warmth that was circulating through her body. Normally at this time she would turn to daydreaming, a pastime she had not forgotten during young adulthood, and had clasped to in adulthood. In the last few weeks her thoughts would have turned to Cal Lightman, the object of her affections for the last little while. It was nice for a change – one can only lust after their roommate for so long without reciprocation before it grows tiring. It was difficult for her to come up with some dreamscape to put Doctor Lightman into that night. Her thoughts were heavy, running paths already well worn.

She was alone, in theory. Sadly Abigail was never truly alone.

_You promised you weren't going to do this anymore. _

"I always promise I'm not going to do this anymore," she muttered to herself.

Abigail did not hear voices; it was nothing as simple as that. Sometimes in life the only person you can talk to is yourself, and she had become proficient in keeping her whole life bottled up. When your best friend is your self, you know that there must be something wrong but also, you know you are in the presence of someone who can be implicitly trusted with all things.

_But you've known that forever, haven't you?_

Frustrated, she turned over in her bed, trying to leave the disconcerting thoughts behind her, so to speak. She stared into the distance, not looking at anything, not focusing anywhere.

_It's not like you enjoy playing with people._

She was torn between wanting to go through life just as she was, ignoring her flaws, and wanting to be found out, discovered for what she was.

A fake.

A fraud.

A _liar_.

Abigail did not want to be this way.

I was _made_ this way.

_He_ made me this way.

No one had ever picked up on the secrets she had, ever. Family, best friends, therapists, psychologists, professors – people who were supposed to be proficient in seeing though the masks people wore were unable to see past hers. Abigail was just too good. Her mask was affixed too tightly and with every passing day her mask was becoming more and more a part of her, and she did not want that to happen.

Emotional abuse was the worst kind of abuse Abigail had decided too long ago. The scars were invisible. When your father is an important man in a smaller town, someone everyone knew – every friend, every teacher, every doctor, every therapist, every professor…who would they believe? The known parent or the unknown child?

At age sixteen Abigail had given up on therapy all together when her therapist had said, "Oh! You're _his_ daughter!" The drawbridge had been raised, the walls built, and the boat set out to sea. She was alone and forever would be. It was both the best and worst thing that could have happened to her, but happening at such a young age had changed her self forever.

Covering up her life with lies became second nature to the point where she did not know who she was. She became everything to everyone, slipping into different personalities and traits became like putting on a second skin. Who _was_ Abigail Elizabeth Andrews? No one really knew. Abigail herself still did not know. She had become lost in the webs of lies she had told and was still telling.

Life had presented Abigail with a choice – sink or swim. Abigail had chosen to swim, but the waters were murky, and she always had to be prepared for anything to come up from those depths. Pretending. Preparing for anything. Always making sure she had a backup plan. Double and triple checking her facts. It had been daunting at first but as the years passed, it became second nature to her.

A Natural Born Liar.

It was why Abigail was such an adept actress - when your whole life is spent telling one lie after the other, telling one lie after another while pretending to be someone else on stage is nothing. Daydreaming ones life away was just another method of coping for her, which aided in her acting. The awards lined the walls of her childhood home but every one of them reminded her of what she was, what she had become.

Abigail was an adaptor, but at what cost?

It was a gift. It was a curse.

_He_ _made me this way._

Abigail had taken an Introduction to Communications course to satisfy the Social Sciences component of her Theatre degree in her first year of University. It had struck such a deep chord with her she changed her major from Theatre to Communications Theory, much to the shock of her family and friends. "But you're a born actress!" they had said. They didn't understand, couldn't understand. She had hoped she would find some answers in her degree, but all she got was the Deans Award as she was the top of her class, no real answers and brand new questions.

Life had placed her at The Lightman Group, and with no effort on her part she found herself placed in front of one of the greatest human lie detectors in the world.

Exhaustion finally started to creep over Abigail, the stresses of the day replaced by the sweet calm of rest.

_What will happen_, she thought to herself as she drifted off to sleep, _when Cal finds me out_?


	3. When First We Practice to Deceive

**Chapter Three: When First **_**We**_** Practice to Deceive**

It was nearly a week later when Cal found himself with time to truly scrutinize what was contained in Abigail's file. Deceit ran rampant in the world, and Cal's responsibility was to whoever controlled the purse strings. Cal himself was not ruled by a lust for money, quite the opposite. It was the thrill of the chase that was his driving force in life - get through the maze, conquer the evil overlord, save the princess. Noble quests these were.

Then again, sometimes he felt akin to a prostitute at times, people paying him for his talents, using him, abusing him, never seeing him again once his job was done.

Cal shook his head at the last thought, deciding sleep was no longer something he could put off for another night. Lack of sleep was affecting his thought process. He had a clear weekend, no work projects lined up, Emily was off camping with some friends so he had the house to himself.

Of course, Cal was never one who could just relax.

"I'll just browse through the file again until I drift off. Nothing like paper work to put me out," he thought to himself. Settling himself on the couch and putting his glasses on, he lay back and began to read all about Abigail all over again. Eli had added some new information to the file folder and Cal hoped something more would jump out at him, more than what did before.

Minutes turned into an hour, which turned into a couple of hours. His brain was working too much to allow sleep to claim him. Sighing in frustration, he tossed the file onto the coffee table beside him.

"Damn it."

_Nothing_ in the file that Eli had given Cal that could explain what Abigail might be hiding. It meant that more than likely whatever was going on with her was something deeper, something darker, and something hiding inside of her. Something Gillian had missed. Something he had missed.

Her parents were normal – her mother a nurse who gave up her job to be a stay at home Mom, her father an educator who was also a highly respected sports coach. Abigail had a younger brother and sister; both were smart, interesting, enterprising people, at least on paper.

Abigail herself had been an honour roll student in high school, a member of the debate team, science club, drama club and choir. She had won awards in all of her extra curricular but she seemed to excel at the arts. In university, she was on the Dean's list every year, participated in the drama club and choir yet again. It was questionable why she left with a partially completed Master's degree but, again, nothing of substance – nothing to explain what he had seen at the bar that night.

No police record, no hidden habits…there was nothing, absolutely nothing, to explain what Cal suspected about her.

_So what was missing?_

He had a bigger challenge on his hands than he had previously thought, and there was nothing Doctor Cal Lightman loved more than a challenge. He knew he was going to have to do something drastic to crack Abigail wide open. She was an actress, a dreamer, always preparing herself for anything that might happen and a lot that would never happen. He was going to have to shock the hell out of her. He was going to have to use and abuse Abigail – he would have to be mean, conniving and crude but she could never know what was going on. He was going to use everything in his arsenal against her.

Cal ran a hand over his face before picking up the phone and dialing a number he knew from heart.

A sleepy voice greeted his call. "I really hope you're in mortal danger Cal," Gillian yawned into the phone.

"Not this time, sorry," Cal said, walking around with his phone, stopping to look outside of his windows where the sunrise was starting to turn the sky golden. "I need your help with something."

Gillian sighed. "This couldn't have waited until I got into the offices?"

"I don't have much time to figure this out, the sooner we get on this the better I think."

"Fine, Cal. What are we doing?"

Cal loved how Gillian would almost always go along with anything he said. He proceeded to explain his thoughts to her, "We missed something with Abigail. Something big."

A shuffling on her end of the phone led Cal to believe she'd just sat up in her bed. "What do you mean, we missed something? Should we be worried?"

"Nah, nothing like that. She's an adaptor, habitual liar as a second nature to the point where we didn't pick up on it. _Almost_ didn't pick up on it," Cal took a little pride in having caught her little crack, even if the mind-altering effects of alcohol had brought it on.

Gillian sighed on her end of the phone. "Sound like someone else I know."

Cal pushed onwards, ignored Gillian's comment. "If she's cracking at all it means she wants to be found out. She's probably been cracking for years only no one has picked up on it."

"Or she wants some reassurance, someone to tell her she's OK." Gillian countered.

"That too," Cal agreed. "Either way we're going to have to break her."

"You always pick the most negative ways of describing things." Gillian admonished, suppressing an early morning yawn.

"Well, it's the next logical step," Cal argued.

"It's not _the_ next logical step, it's _your_ next logical step," the psychologist began. "_You_ want to control this situation because _you_ discovered it – _you_ want to break her and _you_ want to put her back together again."

"I want to help her, too," Cal said, slightly sheepish.

Sighing again, Gillian conceded, "If this is how you want to proceed I'll help you. Just know that…" she trailed.

"Know what?"

Gillian planned her words carefully before she responded. "Know that if Abigail is the way you believe her to be she is probably scared and has been for a long time, and feels very much alone. _Remember_?" Gillian concluded pointedly.

Cal's lips were taught, his eyes on the ground. "One doesn't forget," he said simply.

Sensing that particular topic was now closed, she took a different angle to the conversation. "Do you have any preliminary ideas?"

Cal pursed his lips together and blew out loudly. "I have to seduce Abigail."

Gillian closed her eyes and was silent for a moment before giving her professional analysis on what Cal's proposed course of action.

"Are you _crazy_?!"

"Look, I have to catch her off guard, do something huge, something she won't see coming. She already has a crush on me, this will play into that nicely." Cal explained.

Gillian had jumped up from her bed and was now pacing around her bedroom, " '_Play into that nicely' _?! You want to take an already emotionally fragile girl and use her feelings for you against her to get her to admit her darkest secrets to you?" She practically shouted into the phone.

Cal knew Gillian's sudden silence on the other end of the line was just leading up to a lot more lecturing, so he decided to get her good and riled up before her true incredulousness kicked in.

"Yeah," he said boorishly, sniffing loudly.

"Got any tips for me?"


	4. Paper Faces on Parade

**Chapter Four: Paper Faces on Parade**

Eli Loker and Abigail stepped off the elevator and into the offices of The Lightman Group. It was after hours and the offices appeared deserted, a quiet calm overtaking the usually bustling halls. "I'm sorry we had to detour, this'll just take a minute," Eli said uncomfortably. Abigail chalked his discomfort up more to the suit and tie he was wearing than anything. Eli had asked her to accompany him to a play that evening, something about free tickets and his date had fallen through. She was happy to go, she did love the theatre, and any excuse not to spend another night pouring over her 'required reading' was a welcome one.

"No problem, Eli." Abigail removed her coat, revealing the simple cocktail dress she wore. Eli turned back to say something to Abigail and was caught off guard. "You're pretty," Mr. Radical Honesty announced.

Rewarding the compliment with a smile, she shooed Eli back the way he had been going before. "Hurry, I don't want to be late."

Eli stood there for another moment before remembering why he had turned around in the first place. "Can you do me a favour, Abigail?"

"Sure," she nodded.

"Cal asked me to check the door to the inlet, make sure it's locked. Can you do that?"

"No problem," Abigail said, turning to walk to the inlet and check on the door. Eli watched her walk away, heard her footsteps fade into the distance. When she was out of his eyesight he removed his tie, unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt and walked back to the elevator. He pushed the 'down' button and waited. A new set of footsteps came closer to him, he turned and gave a small salute of hello to Doctor Foster.

"He roped you into this too, huh?" Gillian said, coming up beside Loker.

"Well, you know me, always trying to be a part of the group. Besides, this could prove very interesting research-wise." He looked over at Gillian, "Are we recording what's going on out there?"

Gillian hit Loker on the arm. "Of course not. Cal remembers everything anyway, no doubt he'll write it up somewhere."

"Just make sure Abigail doesn't ever find out," Eli said sagely. The elevator arrived and the doors slid open. "Are you leaving, too?"

"I'm going to stick around. You know, just in case."

"Just in case Cal cracks her _too_ wide open. Got it," Eli nodded. He stepped onto the elevator, but put his arm out to keep it from closing right away. "This is the right thing to do…right?"

Gillian gave a little smile, shrugging. "It's what Cal wants to do."

" 'All the world's a stage and we are merely players'," Eli quoted. "Night, Doctor Foster." He stepped back and let the elevator door close. Gillian retreated to her office, nursing a cup of tea, waiting to know if Cal's chosen course of action was the correct one…

Abigail walked to the entrance of the inlet, surprised to see the door standing wide open. Shaking her head, she went to pull the door closed when she was distracted by soft light.

There were white lights strung in the trees and bushes. All of the tables, chairs and benches had been removed, a single table stood in the centre of the inlet. Two chairs. A white tablecloth. Glasses. Plates. Flowers. The unmistakable form of Dr Cal Lightman with his back to her.

Abigail took in the sight before her, blinking a few times before speaking. "What is this?"

Cal kept his back to Abigail and he was not going to turn around until she approached him. She could choose Option A, deciding to walk away from this, embarrassed to have interrupted something. She could choose Option B, deciding to step forward and continue this path of finding out what was going on.

It was the last time she would have control over anything that evening.

As if called by his thoughts, she slowly began approaching him. "Am I interrupting something?"

Cal still did not turn to face her. He would only respond once she was close enough to him.

Abigail did not understand what was going on. Determined to find the underlying cause of it, she walked up behind Cal, touching his forearm lightly, "Cal," she said softly.

Cal closed his eyes briefly and silently nodded. So this is how the night was going to proceed. Option B it was.

Cal turned around and smiled. "Abigail," he said warmly.

"What is all this?" Abigail asked, motioning to the surroundings.

"This is dinner." Cal answered plainly.

Abigail leaned in conspiratorially, "Who's it for?"

"It is for us."

Abigail blinked. "Us meaning who?"

"Us meaning you and I, love," Cal laughed softly.

Abigail's brows knit in confusion. "Why are you and I having dinner?"

"Just…because."

"You don't do anything just because. What is going on here?"

Cal audibly grimaced. "I wanted to do something nice for you."

"Nice for-?"

"Stop repeating everything I say!" he laughed.

"I'm sorry but you're acting weird right now," Abigail said.

Cal turned away from her for a second, then turned back to face her once more. "I can't stop thinking about you."

This information hit Abigail like a ton of bricks falling from above. Swallowing, she responded how she always would in this situation – humorous honesty. "We work together, you see me almost every day."

Cal shook his head with a smile. "That's not it at all." He moved so he was standing directly in front of Abigail, staring into her eyes. "Ever since the day you came into my office and told me you had a crush on me I've been thinking about you."

Abigail giggled uncomfortably, but her eyes were showing fear. "But that's what you're supposed to do. I mean, you hold it over my head and joke about it. You must think about it at some point."

Cal reached out, gently took one of her hands in his, and looked pleadingly into Abigail's eyes. "Please don't make light of this, Abigail. I can't bear it."

All of the breath left Abigail in one whoosh of air, and she promptly sat down in one of the chairs that surrounded the table. _My God_, she thought. _Is this really happening_?

In the meantime, Cal was congratulating himself on bringing Abigail this far. A few more steps and she'd fully be under his thrall. _Who the hell uses the word _thrall_ these days anyway_, Cal thought to himself before snapping back to the present. He crouched in front of Abigail, lowering himself below her line of sight. An unconscious transfer of power would go through Abigail's mind – her being situated above him would give her the illusion of being in control. It was why a one kneeled on one knee when proposing – the transfer of power, giving the person being proposed to the power to answer however they chose. Cal was still firmly helming this situation, however.

"I even dressed up for you. Had you noticed?" Cal said softly, still holding one of Abigail's hands, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

Abigail had not noticed but was then forced to take in what she saw before her. He wore an expertly tailored three-piece suit, faintest of grey pinstripes running through the black fabric. Everything was pressed, everything was buttoned. He even wore a tie, neatly tied at the neck, but it wasn't the appearance of these rarely seen articles of clothes that Abigail commented on. "You cut your hair," she commented.

"Yeah," he said sheepishly, running his free hand through the newly trimmed locks. "I wanted to make an impression, what can I say?"

"You are certainly doing that," Abigail conceded.

_She's right where I want her_, Cal thought. _Just a few more pushes_…

Gillian Foster had not wanted to watch what was going on, she had decided that it would make her feel like a peeping tom and it wasn't her place to see what Cal was doing. She had agreed to stay in the building that night in case Cal did more damage than he was expecting to Abigail, and she would do what she could to clean up Cal's mess. It was one of her strong points. One of the reasons, she often thought, that Cal kept her around.

But when Gillian saw all the trouble Cal went to in setting this 'intervention' for Abigail up – the inlet, the suit, the haircut, she had felt a squeeze in her stomach. She refused to give the emotion a name – giving it a name gave it power. Gillian did not want to acknowledge that feeling.

Something had drawn her to one of the windows looking out into the inlet area. A secluded window half covered by a tree outside. Seeing the tenderness, the happiness, even the glow on his face as he went on with his charade, whether it was false emotion or not…she felt that squeeze again.

This time she had to name it.

It was jealousy.

Gillian closed her eyes and sighed. The Doctor in her said she should leave this window, go back to her office and see no more. Deal with what she had seen already. The woman in her, however, had a different idea. Stay. Watch. Witness.

Observe what Cal in love might look like.

See what she would never have.

And for once, the Doctor side of her lost.

She stood. She watched.

Her jealousy grew.


	5. Unmasked

**Chapter Five: Unmasked**

"I don't generally do things like this," Cal said, letting go of Abigail's hand, standing up and pacing a few feet away. She stood up from the chair she had been sitting on and followed him. "For not doing this very often you're doing a pretty good job," she said.

"No, I'm not," he said, frustrated. "I had it all planned out in my head, but it's not going how it should!"

"How should it be going?" Abigail asked curiously.

"It doesn't matter, this was stupid," Cal said while dropping his hands to his sides, defeated.

"No, no it's not stupid," Abigail said, walking over to stand in front of him. "In all honesty, this is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. It's amazing."

Cal allowed her a small smile. "Really?"

"No one has ever done anything like this before. Ever."

"Promise?" Cal said, raising a hand to cup the side of Abigail's face. Abigail closed her eyes and moved her head to nuzzle Cal's hand. Opening her eyes, a soft smile playing on her face she responded. "I promise."

From her view at the window, Gillian's stomach was tied in knots. She tried to will the feeling away but the longer she watched, the harder it was to control. It amazed her that Cal could play any part to perfection; he had Abigail almost completely under his spell. It was an amazing talent that Cal had and, if his assumption was correct, a talent that Abigail herself possessed. She would be a powerful ally in the Group if they could hone her talents, and with Cal as a teacher, the sky was the limit for her.

_I wish…_

No. She would not allow herself to even think it. She would not.

It was then that something clicked in her head.

_What if she can't be broken?_

Gillian's eyes darted as the thoughts tumbled around her. Nothing on paper had shown either her or Cal a reason why Abigail should be hiding anything. Nothing on _paper_. If Abigail had spent her life hiding what was going on in her life, preventing anyone from breaking down her barriers…if she had already been broken too many times before…then nothing Cal was planning on doing would be enough to break her down and get to the root of her problems.

"We should have just asked her," Gillian groaned to herself. Sometimes the simple plans were the best.

Gillian thought about breaking into the scene playing out before her and putting an end to Cal's plan, but she could not. This was Cal's plan, Cal's decision – he would learn soon enough if Gillian's presumptions were right. Until then all she could do was stand there and wait.

As always.

"Now this," Cal said huskily, "is more what I had in mind." He brought his other hand up and stroked the other side of Abigail's face. He pushed both hands back, his fingers lost in her hair; only his thumbs remained on her face that he used to trace along her cheekbones.

It was then that she looked at him with squinting eyes. Just a split second. She was questioning, even unconsciously, what was going on. He had to be quick and ruthless if he was going to take her from standing on her toes to pushing her over.

Cal gently guided Abigail's face to his. Their noses briefly touched, then were resting next to each other. One of his hands left her face and light fingertips began trailing down her neck and arm. "If you want me to stop…" he let the words linger in the air.

Abigail let her hands roam up Cal's front, feeling the material of his suit beneath her hands, the rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled and exhaled. "Don't stop," she breathed.

Cal gently brushed his lips against Abigail's. Again, with a little more pressure against her lips. Finally, he allowed himself to truly kiss her –small, gentle kisses at first, his lips only just pressing hers. Kisses that lengthened intensity at a steady pace, but at _his_ pace. His free arm snaked around her waist, the hand in her hair steadily keeping her face against his. Abigail had one of her hands at the back of Cal's head, unconsciously pulling him towards her.

Suddenly Cal broke off the kiss. Slightly panting and leaning his forehead against Abigail's he asked, "Is this all right? Do you want this?"

Abigail did not respond with words. Her hand still at the back of Cal's head she pulled him back into another kiss. Inhaling loudly, Cal backed Abigail against the truck of one of the trees in the inlet and, against his will, let himself fall into the kiss. He had not been planning on losing any control that night but right then, in a perfect kiss, even Cal Lightman could lose sight of the bigger picture and just…be.

Both Cal and Abigail continued kissing each other, hands roaming over each others bodies, small gasps and sighs permeating the silence of the inlet. Opening his eyes briefly Cal was reminded of why he was there, and why Abigail was there. It was time for a different tactic.

"Tell me all your secrets," Cal murmured into her ear.

"What?" Abigail asked, still half responding to wherever Cal's lips were, whatever they were doing.

"I want to know you," he whispered, trailing kisses down her jaw line. She gasped and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him ever closer as he hit the sweet spot on her neck.

"I think you're getting to know me pretty well," she sighed, moving her hands to either side of Cal's face, running her hands over the scruff that was always there. Squaring his face with hers, she pulled him back into a kiss that he was only too glad to reciprocate. Cal moved one of his hands to Abigail's thigh, grabbing at her dress, bunching it up in his hands, losing himself on more in the delicious kisses Abigail was offering to him.

It was yet another moment or two before Cal was able to mentally pull himself away from what was happening. A part of him did not want to continue with his plans to crack Abigail like a walnut. For a few fleeting seconds he entertained the notion of tossing caution to the wind, dragging Abigail to his house, throwing her into his bed and having his own way with her, ravaging her, making love to her in a way only an older, far more experienced man could. It was an intoxicating idea, one he was fairly sure Abigail would be more than willing to go along with at the present moment.

It was then, as fate would have it, he angled his head in such a way that he caught a glimpse of Gillian standing in a window, watching the proceedings. Their eyes met and she hurriedly walked away. Suddenly Cal was thrust into the present, his thoughts were re-aligned. He had to do what he had set out to do. Crack Abigail wide open.

He pulled away from Abigail then and she stumbled a step forward, her face following his even when he pulled away.

"How long have you been a liar, Abby?" Cal asked in his usual up front demeanor.

This stopped Abigail cold, and she pulled back from him. "What are you talking about?"

Cal pulled her back into another kiss, one more fiercely intense than the last. His hands were on either side of her face, holding her close to him. This was not the gentle, passionate kissing of the moments before. This almost felt…angry. Abigail tried to pull away but Cal kept a firm hold on her.

"This is why you have feelings for me, you know. We seek others like ourselves out. We can sense them. We can _feel _them," Cal almost spat out, grinding against her.

"I don't-"

"I know what you are!" Cal yelled angrily. "So just spill it already!"

"Cal!"

"You think you can pull one over on me? I'm Doctor Cal fucking Lightman!" he railed, face turning red, spittle flying. "I am sick to fucking God of you prancing around here like God's fucking gift! You were about to shag me, do you know that! Like some little office tramp!"

Abigail's face was contorted with emotion, "What the hell, Cal?!" She gasped as Cal once more backed her against a tree but this time with a painful force. Her head banged against the tree trunk, and he pressed her against the trunk with his body, a hand at her neck. "Answer me!" He screamed.

"What do you want to know?" she pleaded with him.

"Tell me the truth about you, Abigail! Now!"

Two things happened in that moment.

Abigail noticed that, for a split second, Cal's 'angry' glare did not match his 'angry' voice.

Cal noticed Abigail's eyebrow raise, jaw drop slightly and her mouth curl upwards. Surprise.

"You're…not serious?" Abigail said, shocked.

Cal pushed her back up against the tree and kissed her forcefully. Abigail put her hands to Cal's cheeks and held him in the kiss for a moment, then pushed him away, smiling. "You're playing with me!"

Leaning his forehead against the tree Cal groaned. "The yelling was too much?"

Abigail walked a few feet away, trying to put all of the pieces of the last few minutes into the places where they needed to fit. She then turned back to face Cal. "My Dad was an expert yeller," she began. "He had been brought up by expert yellers. He was an actor, a coach, and a vice principal whose main love in life was discipline. So when he yelled," she said, looking down at the ground, "and I mean _really_ yelled, there was nothing short of a natural disaster that could stop him. He was a pain train coming into the station. He could go on and on for hours and never once would his glare falter."

Cal stood silently, listening to every word Abigail said.

"The yelling was bad enough on its own, but it was his glare. He's got these ice blue eyes and when he's glaring they could cut through steel."

Nodding, Cal looked at Abigail with interest. "I faltered," he said simply.

"And of course knowing you, you either did it unconsciously or you did it purposely to see if I'd pick up on it. Care to tell me which?" Abigail asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Which do you think it was," Cal cocked hi head slightly to one side.

Abigail smiled. "It doesn't matter what I think it was. It doesn't matter why you did anything you did tonight. What is it you want to know?"

"You won't tell me if I just ask you. That's not how we work."

"Well, maybe we will after having an emotional shake up."

Cal thought about this for a moment. "Are you a liar, Abby? A good liar? Addicted to lying?"

Abigail snickered harshly. "You don't mince words, do you." Cal stood still, not answering Abigail. "I am a liar," she nodded. "And I hate it."

Cal nodded silently.

A moment passed.

"Aren't you going to say anything? That's what you wanted me to say. Isn't that what this whole night was about?" Abigail questioned.

"You don't like who you are?" Cal asked. Abigail nodded in response. "And you want to change yourself?"

"Wouldn't you?" Abigail laughed.

"Don't you mean, '_didn't_ you?'" Cal inhaled loudly, looking intently at Abigail. "Why do you want to change, exactly?"

Abigail's eyes almost bugged out of her head. "Because I'm not normal, Cal!"

He cocked his head to one side, regarding Abigail with a studious gaze. "What is normal?"

"Are you serious?" Abigail all but shouted at him. "You're getting philosophical on me now!?"

Cal moved towards Abigail, but gave her a foot or two of space. "No, I'm not, actually," Cal replied calmly. "You see, everyone has this preconception of what normal is. There is no real baseline for 'normal'. There's no list to follow about 'yes, this is normal,' or 'no, this is not normal'. Everyone's perception of normal is different. What I think is normal might be abnormal to you."

"I think that's a guarantee right now," Abigail said sharply. "What is your point?"

Cal stood up from his chair and came around the desk, standing adjacent to Abigail. "You keep telling yourself you're not normal, that you need to change. I'm telling you that you don't."

"You can't know that," she said, shaking her head.

"I do know that. I _am_ that," Cal responded.

Abigail had finally heard enough.

"This?" she screamed. "What goes on up here," she pointed at her head. "This is NOT NORMAL! I manipulate situations! I force people into situations they don't know they're getting into! I lie without realizing it and it is second nature for me! I don't understand it, I can't control it and it is not – IS NOT – something that everyone does. It is _not_ normal!"

Cal grabbed Abigail's forearms and looked her square in the eyes. "I'm saying this is _who you are_. There is nothing wrong with that."

"It's not who I want to be!" Abigail pleaded, trying to shake Cal off. "And you telling me I'm normal, that it's all OK, is like…is like…"

"Listen to me!" Cal yelled, backing her against the table, jarring her. He inhaled and exhaled loudly. "Listen to me," he said a little more calmly. Abigail looked at him, a mix of shock and confusion on her face. "You are wasting time," he said slowly. "You are wasting your life trying to change who you are. This is who you are - this is how you were _made_," Cal squeezed her arms gently, his words becoming more and more impassioned with each passing second. "You are not an evil person. You are not wrong, or warped, abnormal or broken. You are who you are, Abigail, and that is _not_ a bad thing."

Abigail shook her head slowly, eyes on the ground. "But it's not who I want to be, Cal."

"Ahh, finally. The truth comes out," Cal removed one hand from Abigail's arm and used his hand to raise her chin so she was looking up at him. "Here's a secret, love. No one is who they really want to be. If they were I'm fairly sure we here would all be out of a job." He smirked slightly, "No one lies when they're happy."

"How is this possible?" Abigail asked, feeling defeated and deflated. "How can I go through life like this? Pretend all of this is normal?"

Cal placed his hands on either side of Abigail's face again, this time as a comforting gesture. "Ah, love. You'd be surprised what a person can live with." He dropped his hands to her shoulders. "Whatever has gone on in your life has brought you this far." He leaned in and said playfully, "It's brought you to me. To all of us," he allowed. "We can help you, work with you. Whatever you want or need. But I really don't think you need help."

Abigail started to become aware of what exactly had gone on that evening. "I can't believe how you played me."

Cal lightly bounced his head from one side to the other, pursing his lips together. "I wouldn't say '_played_', exactly."

"Then what would you call it, exactly?"

"I would say I manipulated you. Deceived you."

She allowed a small smile. "You _lied_ to me."

Cal threw his hands up to the heavens, laughing. "My god, she still doesn't get it!"

Abigail chuckled softly. "So is this how you treat all new girl employees? A magical dinner date in the garden to get them to spill their secrets?"

"Yeah, sorry about that," a hint of shame crept into his voice. "I knew I'd have to be brutal to get you going." He looked at her, "D'you hate me?"

"Not exactly. Although," Abigail admitted, "things can not possibly be as embarrassing as this for me ever again."

Cal took one of her hands. "Never say that, love. Especially not to me."

"Oh my god, Eli!" Abigail exclaimed, whipping around to look behind her. Cal reached out and caught Abigail's arm, stopping her from fleeing. "He's probably left already."

Abigail stood motionless for a moment. "How many people did you tell about this?"

"Well, I'd thought about sending out a mass e-mail, but something like this is better done face to face. Cuts down on the inter-office rumours…"

"How many people?" Abigail demanded.

"Only two, and they're a trusted two. Well," Cal amended, "maybe one more than the other."

They both regarded each other for a moment. "So," Abigail started. "What happens now?"

Cal smiled at her. "Remember at Dios Mio, you said you saw a lot of yourself in me?" Abigail nodded. "You were right," he shrugged. "You might not be a natural at detecting micro expressions but that's only a part of the job. You have valuable natural tendencies that are going to come in handy in future," He cocked his head to one side, smiling, "and I am going to exploit the _hell_ out of you."

"Oh, that sounds promising," Abigail groaned.

"Do you feel you need to talk to someone about this?" Cal asked.

Abigail sighed, "Right now I'm in a solid place all things being considered, surprisingly. Of course, I could go home tonight and have the cycle begin again. If things go the way you say they're going to, I'll never change. That doesn't mean I have to like it. So I might need to talk to someone sometime."

"I don't have a degree in Psychology, that's Gillian's thing and we can set that up if you want. But, you know," Cal said, shifting slightly in his discomfort – he hated taking about anything too personal with anyone, "if you want to talk to me, I can…listen. Talk back. I might have an idea or two about what it is you're going through."

"Or just trick me into spilling my guts." Abigail finished for him. "If I need to I'll come to you. I promise."

"I have a question for you," Cal said, eyes twinkling. "If you're so good at this, how come I was able to pick out that you had a crush on me?"

Abigail shrugged. "Maybe I wanted you to corner me on that."

Cal clapped his hands together, and then spread them wide. "Now that the tricky part of the evening is out of the way, what's say we eat?"

Abigail blinked. "Seriously?"

"Table's set, food's here. Why not? You hungry after all that?"

Inhaling and exhaling, Abigail nodded at Cal. "Famished."

Cal gentlemanly pulled out a chair for Abigail and seated her before going to his own chair and sitting down. Looking at his food he addressed Abigail, "This is going to be stone cold, isn't it?"

"Microwave?" she suggested.

"Spot on," Cal replied. They carried their plates into the building and to the communal office microwave.

Gillian didn't know what she was going to say to Cal when she saw him next. Of course, she didn't expect to see him that evening, so when he popped his head into her office the surprise was not feigned.

"All done, she's fine," he said briskly, staying in the doorway of her office. "You can go if you want, or stay. Up to you."

Standing up behind her desk Gillian said, "Cal, I need to apologize-"

"For what? You were just observing, nothing wrong with that. I did ask you to stay just in case." Cal interrupted, brushing off her apology.

They stood there on almost opposite sides of the room, regarding each other, knowing that the other knew exactly what was going on.

"I'm glad it all worked out," Gillian finally said.

"Yeah. Well, I'd better get back. Dinner's re-heating and all. Good night Doctor Foster."

Not able to meet his eyes, Gillian said meekly, "Good night, Doctor Lightman."

Cal took his leave of her office, and Gillian sat down in her chair heavily.

She allowed herself to think what she had been suppressing all night.

_I wish it had been me instead of Abigail._

Cal closed the door to Gillian's office behind him and paused for a moment. He let his head fall back against the door, eyes closed. He'd seen the hurt in Gillian's eyes, but something else as well. Something he thought he'd never see from Gillian and aimed at him.

He'd seen _longing_.

Running a hand over his face, he slightly turned his head to the door, looking down at the doorknob. It would be so easy, just open the door and let fate take control. But he wouldn't. Cal couldn't.

He moved away from the door and walked down the hallway, leaving Gillian in her office and returning to Abigail and their re-heated dinner.


End file.
